A/N: This may be the last installment of Blue…although I think I'll never be able to completely leave her behind, thanks to She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (or it would ruin the fun of these fics:) ) Blue was introduced to me almost four years ago at the beginning of my fanfiction days. This chapter has taken me months to finish because I no longer liked how Blue reacted to Legolas' attentions and her uneasiness regarding his heritage. So, I guess this would be inevitable if they were indeed true characters, and we always don't like the inevitable (me especially!) I have an idea of how to continue from here, but don't know if I like the finality of the idea. Let me know, or it might be awhile before you hear from Blue.

A/N cont: I apologize to Evil's Muse for forgetting to save the author note I typed before I uploaded the last chapter. The recollection of Legolas' last seeing Black was her writing with a few twists to switch perspective. I'll make sure to fix my error! Now, onto the story!

The connection between us was broken and I once again could feel the horse beneath me, and smell the pasture. For once I was thankful my eyes were closed.

"How long ago was that?" I asked Legolas as I slowly opened my eyes.

"Not long ago. Only a few short years before they returned for you."

We were silent for a short while, listening to the quiet chatter of the Elves around us and lost in the past we both had relived.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew who was after me?"

Legolas swallowed. "Would you have believed my tale of a fire-throwing woman and her bird companions?"

I ignored the last part of his statement and shrugged, knowing that I would have believed everything he said back then.

"I knew you had made contact with them when you wished to learn Westron," he continued. "I didn't want you to communicate with them, but at the time I knew you thought them human and could link you to your past. I could not deny you the right to speak the language of your people."

"They did link me to my past, Legolas," I replied quietly. I had not purposely forgotten to tell him that I had departed from the band with more than just immortality and a sense of rebellion. I felt him still behind me and took a breath to tell him.

"My parents didn't abandon me at the borders of Mirkwood. The old man Black was after had once been a part of a clan called the Raiders. They did just that. Town to town they plundered, burned, and killed. Somewhere he had come across a baby crying in her dead mothers arms—me—and took her to his home, putting fish genes in me and distorting my make-up. I am synthetic…man-made."

Legolas' arms tightened around me protectively, and I forced myself to lift the tone of my voice. "But I could not bring myself to find Black's hatred. I felt nothing and I felt so wrong. I couldn't even grieve over my parents. Is that so wrong?"

The Elf behind me was silent for a moment and when he spoke his voice was soft. "You didn't know them. Maybe it's because unlike Black you found yourself a life to be content with. She had suffered much in her life—no doubt facing many deaths of those around her."

I nodded dumbly, accepting his words. I did know why, but he was right. I had every right to be upset being a mortal amongst Elves. I could have allowed it to corrupt my life and I don't think I'll ever understand why I didn't.

"Do you think I'll ever see them again?"

"Who? Black?"

"No, the other two—Red and Green."

"You may, someday maybe you'll cross paths." I felt Legolas shifting behind me. "Do you still feel as an outsider among Elves?"

I sighed. "I feel like an outsider everywhere I go. Now, I'm a race of my own, it seems, and the only one who could relate to me in that sense is Red, but she was born that way. It seems I am always changing. I can't live more than a few decades without a metamorphosis."

"You are Elf-kind now. You are part of our race—my race."

I shook my head. "No. I'm not an Elf, never will be. Elves cannot be made with magic or spells. Only immortality can be given." I slid my hair behind me ear. "These aren't real. Black shaped them by burning the flesh and molding it while it was hot. Then she healed them just enough to remove the bad scarring, but they're still sensitive."

Legolas did not reply, probably dumbstruck with my confession and staring at them. Then I felt his finger tracing the point.

I shuttered. "Please don't do that. It still causes the same sensation, or so I am told."

I was thankful when he withdrew, but it was soon replaced with the heat of his breath. "You know it doesn't matter to me."

I swallowed hard. "It matters to me. I am illegitimate, not good enough for a prince."

He didn't say anything, but I could feel the anger boiling in him. "Good, for I am no longer a prince," he finally replied, his voice monotone.

"W-what?"

"I am no longer of Mirkwood. I am of Ithilien."

"Oh," I replied, stunned at his declaration. "Does that make you King of Ithilien, then?" I asked in a small voice, already knowing the answer.

"No!" he roared, startling many of the Elves around and the horse, who reared back. Neither Legolas nor I were holding onto the reins. I yelped and I felt Legolas slide back and frantically tried to grasp onto anything, the reins, the saddle, but instead I felt Legolas grab me and I tumbled off with him.

Hitting the ground in Legolas' arms was like déjà vu, and I instantly jumped up, ignoring my protesting muscles and joins to see to him. If I had killed him, I'd never forgive myself.

He was indeed fine, angry more like. He stood, his eyes burning into me.

"Are you all right, my lord?" one of the Elves asked, dismounting.

"Fine," he bit back, grabbing my arm and pulling me away, out of earshot of the Elves in the camp.

"Is this how it's going to be?" he asked when we were more than several yards away from the group. He turned to look at me. "Are you always going to doubt me? Doubt yourself?"

I searched for an answer, looking at him to find what he wished to hear.

"You're not the only one with pain now! You were parted from your friends, yes, but do your realize I have left my life behind? I have done everything I can to make you happy! But still it seems you cannot get past my blood! Am I so much like my father to you? Do you not know me well enough to know that I care nothing of titles and possessions, least of all blood?"

He turned away from me, rubbing his forehead between his fingers. His emotions raging so violently, I don't think he realized how strongly they were pulsing from him. All his unsaid words in his anger and hurt coursed through me, leaving me in speechless agony. I wasn't even aware that I started shaking. The volume of his emotions mixed with my confusion and pain was too much to bear.

"All I want—all I've ever asked from you is trust, and still you cannot," he continued. "You claim to love me, but…" words died on his tongue when his eyes connect with mine. "Aluhin?"

I made no move to curb the tears running down my cheeks, to hide my shaking hands due to his anger, and seeing this, his demeanor softened. He stepped toward me and opened his mouth to no doubt apologize for his actions.

"Don't," I croaked through my sobs, stepping away from his advances, avoiding his eyes because of the pain I'd see there. "Don't apologize. You're right. You're always right. What was I thinking that love could overcome all?"

"What are you saying?"

I finally turned to him and let him see that this was hurting me as much as it was him. "I love you. I love you with every ounce of my essence, with…with more emotion than I thought I had in me, and it scares me to death because I know what you would do for my sake—that you would die—and almost did on more than one occasion—to prevent me from pain. But I can't let you do that, and you can't shelter me from every ill the world throws my way."

"You don't have to let me, we'll face strife together."

"But don't you see, Legolas? Even though we grew up in the same city, we belong to separate worlds. I can't live the palace life and you can't live without it. I don't want to live a lie, or be forced to hide whenever your father visits. I don't want to be only known as your mistress and be the topic of nightly gossip among your people because my ears can't reach their words. I don't want you to protect me from the evils that dwell in the world or treat me like glass. I might not seem like a whole person or feel like one, but I want to live. And I want you to live. You can't deny yourself that there are pleasures you yearn for that you have given up for me. And who am I to deny you them? I have no place of power, no reason to speak my mind or be listened to! I have done nothing to earn anyone's respect or love! My life is a mistake! And I cannot let you make this one!"

I turned away from him, sobbing to the point I couldn't speak any longer. The look on his face told me he was denying what I was saying to him, but my words were breaking him.

The truth was, they were breaking me.

"I will never be able to repay you for what you have done for me, but I think we both knew that when you proposed to hide me during that dinner all those years ago; but I hope that the time I spent with you was not terribly dreadful and I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you. I'm sorry for everything."

I took one last look at him through my tears and made to turn away.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he cried, approaching me to grasp me desperately. "Why would you leave me? Why can't we go back to how things were? Rely on love…"

"Things change, Legolas. People change. I'm not the innocent I was. I died in your arms by your father's sword and was reborn in the river outside your home. The mission with the Ring changed you. I know the pain you suffered from its pull—the pull which you wouldn't have felt if I would have never let you keep me. It plagued your mind with falsehoods about me. I am not what your mind fabricated me to be. You need to be free of me, free to live the life of your choosing, not one forced upon you because of my insecurity."

His hands gripped my upper arms as his teary eyes searched me, frantic to find something we both knew he wouldn't find. "This freedom is worth more than I can give you, then? You would rather us both suffer—"

"Don't you dare speak of that! We both know you can find something—someone to keep your soul in Middle-earth. Don't give up without a chance. What way is it to die like that? It's suicide, Legolas. It's no different than thrusting a sword into yourself, no more honorable either. The best archer in Middle-earth has more to his reputation and self-respect than to kill himself! I know you better than anyone except perhaps yourself. We both know how you survived the ten years separation, but this time hold onto a different hope. Hope for a wife. Forget about me. Return to Mirkwood, journey to Lothlorien—to Rivendell…"

I had never seen the look on his face that he wore when I made that request. His eyes brimmed red, welling with tears that he held back from falling. His adam's apple quivered as he struggled to speak. "A wife? That's what you ask of me? Forget you and find a wife? Has living with Elves for two decades taught you nothing?"

"I know of your heart. I'm not stupid. We both know you must in order to survive…"

He withdrew his hands as if I suddenly burned him. "What do you care if I survive? You obviously don't feel anything toward me!" he back away from me. "Leave if you insist!" he yelled, waving his arm across the grassy planes of Rohan. "It's all you ever seem to do! Run into the woods! Across Middle-earth! But don't expect me to make any promises this time. I'm sure you'll have no problem forgetting me—you've done it before. Don't come crawling back expecting me to take you in. Remember that you wanted this…you didn't want me…"

His words stung, but I knew he didn't mean them. He was hurting—we were both hurting…it was his way of shielding his heart.

"Just…" his lip quivered in anger and the sobs finally broke through his restraint. He turned away, obviously not wanting me to see him in such a state that had been my doing.

I wanted to say 'I love you' or share one last kiss with him, but he hated me now. He never wanted to see or hear from me again.

I couldn't blame him.

So I turned away from him, whistling for my horse and placing his belongings in the grass for him to find, and rode away resisting the urge to look back. Instead, I looked at the vast nothingness ahead of me and wondered what would come of my spur of the moment decision…and what would become of him…